


Grey and Gold

by greygerbil



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-26 23:55:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16691386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: To avoid making a decision that might end up insulting a number of noble houses, Robert marries his brother Stannis to Davos, the onion knight. All at once, Stannis is forced to face the feelings he's had since first meeting the smuggler at Storm's End.





	Grey and Gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Plaid_Slytherin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/gifts).



> You had such an intriguing list of likes and I loved the idea of starting these two off in a marriage of convenience that is still running on an undercurrent of initial attraction.
> 
> For the purposes of this fic, I'll pretend same-sex marriage is recognised in Westeros.

“It’s good to meet you again, my lord.”

Stannis glanced at Davos and gave him a curt nod. He looked the same as he had at Storm’s End a year and a half ago. There was nothing special about this man. He was too short, really, and built too slight for a proper knight despite his sinewy muscle. Everything about him was earthen tones. His skin was tanned by the sunlight like that of a peasant, his eyes the colour of hazelnuts, too light to be striking in the way the dark eyes of the Dornish were, and his long brown hair had a mousey quality, almost ashen in the light that fell through the leaves of the trees which grew high before the sept. He was not really handsome. Stannis could not take his eyes off him.

Stannis had always reproached himself with these observations when he caught himself daydreaming about Davos Seaworth, the smuggler he’d knighted after the end of the siege at Storm’s End. Even in those days, Stannis had felt drawn to him, fought the image of this unassuming man off like it was some desire demon sent up from the hells. It made no sense to focus on him among everyone, and yet he could not be rid of this thought. Before anything could come of it, though, Robert had taken Davos from his side and put him on a mission to spy on the Greyjoys, to accompany Robert north to the Wall, to make treaties with merchants from Volantis.

They had been apart for so long that he’d wondered if Davos still remembered his face. Whether he did or not, though, Davos, returned from his latest voyage, had been dragged off the boat last night to be told he was to be Stannis’ husband.

When Robert had announced Stannis’ match to him, Stannis had stared at him like he’d gone mad.

“You’d give me a smuggler’s hand in marriage? Are there no lords or ladies left who would take it?”

“You’re the one who made him a knight,” Robert had reminded him. “And I saw how you mooned over him at Storm’s End, so why are you complaining? You’ll be too stuck-up to take him as your whore on the side, so now you can have him.” He had waved his hand dismissively. “Of course there are noble houses who want you. Making any decision will likely be worse than making none in this case. Jon Arryn agrees, too. We’ll say it was a love marriage I couldn’t talk you out off. It’s Renly’s line that will be in Storm’s End, anyway, so there is no harm in this.”

This marriage arrangement had as many double edges as the Iron Throne Robert had sat on when he presented it to him, Stannis thought. Robert imagined he indulged him, yet at the same time married him under his worth, insulting him while he spurned him on, raising Davos above his station and mocking him in a sentence. It shocked him that Robert had noticed his unfortunate feelings for Davos at all, meaningless as they must have been. In the end, though, what weighed heaviest was probably just that Robert wanted him out of the game as a piece on the board in the marriage talks. Thus, if Robert could not give Stannis a spouse he deserved, he handed him one he might like to bed, as if to sweeten the bitter medicine he made him swallow. It was a solution that fit Robert and his crude tastes very well. Stannis just wished there wasn’t a small, base, unworthy part of him that had woken at the idea, too.

“You look very handsome,” Davos continued, when Stannis stood silent, lost in thought.

Stannis glanced down at himself. He’d had his clothes chosen for him, as he himself took no great pleasure in fancy garments. Clean black hunting boots, made especially for the occasion, leather breeches of the same dark colour, and a black doublet with a stag stitched in gold on the front, mirroring the thick yellow cloak he wore for the ceremony that presented the Baratheon coat of arms in black.

He raised his eyes to look at Davos. His clothes were just as new and most likely not his own, though Stannis guessed Robert would let Davos keep them. He could not have chosen them anymore than Stannis had, though. Stannis had simply not cared about what he wore, while Davos hadn’t even known he would need wedding raiment yesterday morning. Nevertheless, the muted green colour of his tunic matched him well, and the brown leather trousers and knee-high boots that fit around his lean, muscular legs flattered him. Around his shoulders hung a grey cloak with the black ship proudly wearing the onion on its sail.

“How do you feel dressed like this, smuggler?” Stannis asked him.

“Afraid to tear the fabric, my lord.”

A smile twitched at the corner of Stannis’ mouth for just one moment. He had almost forgotten how diverting it was, talking to Davos. He never minced his words for him.

“They will take that cloak off you,” he told him.

It could go both ways in a marriage between two men or two women, but it was usually the lesser part who ended up bundled in their new spouse’s cloak of protection. While this custom had caused many a long-standing grudge and explosive fight, as houses squabbled over which one deserved the honour of giving the cloak and which one had to receive it, in this case the question was so easy to answer Stannis really needn’t have mentioned it. Yet, his flaring nerves had wanted him to fill the silence.

Davos chuckled.

“I suspected as much. King Robert wouldn’t want you seen with an onion ship around your shoulders.”

“He cares little enough that he would marry me to you,” Stannis pointed out. “I wonder who he wants to keep out of the royal family with this.”

Davos cocked his head. “Yes, so do I,” he said softly, averting his gaze.

Davos was silent now and Stannis wished he’d kept his mouth shut. It was an unkind thing to say to your husband, who had had no choice in the matter at all, was it not? But it was also the truth and Davos was too smart not to know he was being used for a purpose. It would be childish to be upset that Stannis had mentioned it!

Before he had any time to make up his mind whether to try and sooth the blow, he found a hand clasping his shoulder. Robert stepped past him after squeezing it once and grasped Davos’ arm instead.

“There you are, Davos Shorthand. Prepared for the big day?”

“As much as I’ll ever be, Your Grace,” Davos said.

“You look splendid in that cloak – a bit like a Stark, with those colours! My brother grimaces like he’s eaten sour grapes, but I assure you people will think he’s lucky on that count.”

Stannis thought Davos looked a little relieved, most of all, as he fell into an easy chat with Robert, who was talking of the guests. Of course he would. People always preferred talking to Robert once they knew the both of them, and Davos and Robert had after all travelled north together before. Stannis felt a twinge of annoyance. Could this man not resist overshadowing him even at his own wedding day? It was not like Robert even cared about men in the first place...

“I’ll be your father today, Davos,” Robert said, with a boisterous laugh. “Since it was on such short notice.”

“That’s just as well. Even if I still had any family, I doubt they would dare come here. The city guard would most likely be looking for them, as I knew them...”

Robert snorted and gave Stannis a playful shove towards Davos as he clapped him on the back in amusement. Since Stannis had not expected it, he barrelled right into his betrothed, who could only just keep them from going down.

“Careful there,” Robert joked as Stannis pushed quickly off Davos. “Save tearing him to the ground for the bedding.”

Stannis frowned at him.

“Is the ceremony prepared?” he asked, not deigning his joke with an answer. “We’ve been waiting long enough.”

“Hasty as always. Well, I guess we shouldn’t keep the guests waiting. Nor me. I’m looking forward to be done with the septon’s blathering so we can eat!”

With that, Robert opened the wide doors of the sept and strode in before them. Stannis straightened his back and folded his cloak neatly to the side before he followed. He was almost at the door when Davos caught up with him and, in his anger, Stannis remembered only now they were to enter side by side.

The septon stood between the painted, jewellery-encrusted statues of the Mother and Father, which loomed at the farthest of the seven walls of the sept. All the benches were filled with lords and ladies. Stannis did not look at them but only ahead. Davos hurried to keep up with him on their way to the altar. Stannis could hear the rhythm of his steps change to a light jog, but by then slowing down to let him walk more comfortably would have looked even more foolish, so Stannis only stopped at the altar, cursing himself for making this seem like even more of a mummer’s farce than it already was.

The singing and praying washed over him without much catching in his head, and no attempt of him to participate. He glanced at Davos, who was doing his best to keep up, uncertainly mouthing along to songs he didn’t seem to know. They were long and complicated, with many stanzas, and Stannis guessed they were not the ones that were sung in the septs of the smallfolk. He felt a twinge of sympathy. Should he? Davos was marrying far above what he should have hoped for, he should be happy. And yet, Stannis thought he knew him at least well enough to say that Davos would not have pushed so far beyond his station had he been given a choice.

Finally, the voices subsided. Robert stood up from where he sat next to their little brother in the first row and stepped behind Davos. In one swift movement, he undid the clasp of the grey cloak and swept it off Davos’ shoulders, giving Stannis an expectant grin.

Stannis was still fumbling clumsily with the clasp on his own cloak as he took Robert’s place behind Davos. When he had finally torn it free, he draped it over his betrothed’s shoulders. Davos’ head was in the way, so he had to lean sideways to see what his fingers were doing and he felt fleeting resentment at the imperceptible tremble in them. Standing there fingering at the clasp, he saw, suddenly, an inch of a leather band peeking out above Davos’ collar. The pouch with his finger bones, the ones Stannis had hacked off, he realised. Davos must have stuffed it under his doublet.

Finally, he managed to close the clasp, though as he stepped back, he noticed that he had trapped one of Davos’ long strands of hair in it. The smuggler caught his gaze, gave him an almost impish smile, and removed it with a small, quick gesture. This, for some reason, captured Stannis’ attention so fully that the septon had to clear his throat to call him back to the ceremony.

“With this kiss I pledge my love,” Stannis said, quickly, by rote, the vow he had heard so often in other peoples’ weddings, “and take you for my lord and husband.”

“With this kiss I pledge my love and take you for my lord and husband,” Davos repeated and stepped towards him as he said it. The shine of hundreds of tall candles cast him in a soft, flickering light and deepened the yellow of the cloak around his shoulders. Stannis had barely had time to look at it while he was trying to fasten the clasp at his neck under hundreds of eyes, but it was undeniable the sight of Davos in a Baratheon cloak shook something in him. It was so powerful, in fact, that for the second time in this ceremony, he missed his cue. Davos handily made up for it, however, pushing up to press a quick kiss on his mouth. His lips were chapped, but soft and warm. Rocking back onto his heels, Davos broke the kiss before Stannis’ mind had time to catch up.

When the septon raised the crystal, the rainbow light fell down on them. Davos blinked, blinded by a beam of red, and looked at his feet.

“In the sight of gods and men, I solemnly proclaim Stannis of House Baratheon and Davos of House Seaworth to be husbands, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever, and cursed be the one who comes between them.”

Thus it was done. They led the procession down the aisle and out of the yard, down to the Small Hall were the feast was held.

-

With Robert and Renly they climbed the dais where the king sat next to an empty spot which, if all came through, would soon be filled with Cersei Lannister’s chair, but now still stood vacant as a reminder that another wedding was to happen soon. Renly bounced before them, humming one of the septon’s songs to himself. Before sitting down, Davos hung the Baratheon mantle over the back of his own seat, gently straightening its folds. They had barely managed to take a seat when the first fiddles and flutes sounded.

“Time to lead the dance,” Robert said, smirking. He knew exactly how well-suited Stannis was for the task. Stannis gave him a dark look, but got up. Some customs one could not escape. Davos followed him to the space between the dais and the tables, which had been emptied so people had room to move.

“I wish I had known before I got off the boat,” Davos said quietly, as they approached the empty spot. “I would have had someone teach me how to dance in a noble house. It never occurred to me I might have to know so soon.”

“It wouldn’t have done you much good. I can’t dance,” Stannis said, flatly. He knew the steps, to be sure, but he had not an ounce of feeling for music and really cared astoundingly little about it, so the chances of him ever learning were very slim.

Davos laughed quietly. “Then I guess you will just have to follow my lead and hope for the best, my lord.”

They arrived on the dance floor as the music picked up into a joyful, leaping melody and Davos grasped one of Stannis’ hands and put the other on his shoulder. There was no pattern to his steps, but they were in tune with the song, somehow following the rhythm despite their randomness. He turned Stannis this way and that and Stannis had a feeling that Davos may have danced with a broom and looked just as pleasing doing it. Though he rather suspected the lords and ladies were already giggling about Davos’ tavern dance, Stannis wished he could have seen it without all of them here, without himself standing around hindering Davos’ lithe body from moving freely, too, just watching him as the only audience left.

When the first couples joined them after a few minutes, Stannis took it as a chance to escape. They ascended the stairs to the dais once more.

“I remember Lady Alysa used to say you were stiff as an iron bar on a jail cell when she attempted to teach you to dance,” Robert said, as Stannis sat down again. “Some things never change, do they?”

“Why would I have gotten better at dancing?” Stannis asked, irritably. “Do you see me wasting times at feasts around here?”

“No, but I figured you may at least have developed the senses of a man. You could have put that dangling free hand on Davos’ rump, you know...”

Stannis decided to ignore Robert before they started shouting at each other in front of the collected nobility of King’s Landing.

It soon became clear that this part of the ceremony was something Robert had made so grand for his own amusement rather than to please Stannis or his husband. While the king, holding a goblet of wine, vanished somewhere between the female guests, Stannis bore the row of lords and ladies that had managed to find polite words to congratulate him for the match while Davos sat silently by his side, poking at his food and smiling at strangers.

Renly got bored of his candied fruit quickly and ran over to make Davos tell him some sailor stories. Stannis was about to send the boy away to find children his age to bother, but Davos seemed relieved and so Stannis left them alone. It was only when the nobles had dispersed that he had time to sip his wine and appreciate the sight before him: Renly perched on the sturdy wooden armrest of the chair, part of the Baratheon mantle draped playfully around his shoulders like a blanket, and Davos smiling as he talked of pirates in the Free Cities, gesturing, his ponytail loose and disorderly by now, hair wild around his face, matching the slightly crumpled doublet. It was an oddly peaceful image that gentled the waves the day had thrown up in Stannis, surprising him as he realised it. His lust for this man was not a sufficient explanation for enjoying the sight of him entertaining his younger brother.

When the story was finished, Renly left to join some friends of his and Davos hid a yawn in the crook of his elbow after he had emptied his cup. Stannis, who had been looking for Robert in the crowd, noted it from the corner of his eyes.

“Are you tired?”

Davos looked up.

“Just a little. I arrived late last night,” he said. “I have barely slept since I stepped foot on land. But don’t worry, this excitement should keep me awake for a bit longer, my lord.”

“I have no further cause to stay here,” Stannis said, honestly. “I was just hoping my brother would show up again.”

“I guess we should wait for His Highness.”

“I’m not sure he will return at all.”

He was probably out in the yard play-fighting other young lords like a stupid boy, or kissing someone’s wife in the pantry. Likely as not, he would fall asleep drunk in a room that wasn’t his and be retrieved by the guards in the morning. Stannis was in no mood to wait for him to finish with his childish follies, though, especially knowing they could go on all night. This was _his_ wedding, and though he was in truth filled with dread at the next step, he would rather face it head-on than sit here fretting uselessly for hours.

“Let’s go,” he said, standing suddenly.

Davos looked surprise, but rose nevertheless and gathered the Baratheon cloak up in his arms. Stannis had hoped that with the night being long already, people would be too busy to notice their flight, but of course, the lords and ladies had a sixth sense when it came to these matters. No sooner had they had stepped off the dais than they were swarmed by men and women alike.

Among all the unnecessary frills of a wedding ceremony, the chaos around the bedding was most certainly the worst. Stannis found it tasteless when it happened to others and as he saw the gaggle of young nobles now collected around them, he viciously hated the thought of it being directed at him. There were enough foolish thoughts and worries swarming his head concerning that part of the wedding...

Mercifully, no one seemed brave enough to take on Stannis as he led the way out of the hall towards the western wing of the castle, where he knew a bedroom had been prepared for them. His tight-lipped expression and balled fists invited no commentary. Davos striding by his side, however, was an easier target.

“You won’t need that mantle,” a young man claimed, a Hightower, Stannis was fairly sure. “Give it here.”

“That’s the cloak my husband gave me,” Davos protested with a smile in his voice. “Take my doublet instead.”

Apparently, Davos knew the rules of these games, for their posse crooned at the idea. Davos gave the bundle of fabric that was the cloak to a woman walking by his side and raised his arms, allowing two men to strip his doublet. Of course, they took the chance to rip off the white, wide-sleeved shirt underneath as well. The rash movement tore the band from his hair, letting it fall freely over his shoulders. Stannis was about to snap at the men, but Davos just laughed, reclaiming his cloak. The bundle with the finger bones rested against his naked chest, briefly distracting Stannis from his ire.

“They say Lord Stannis is all steel. Ser Davos, let us know if he’s hard where it counts!” Gerion Lannister shouted, running a hand through his golden hair.

Among gusts of laughter from the audience, Davos took Stannis’ arm, the fingers of his good had curling about it. The gesture was unexpected, strangely sweet among the bawdy jokes and clamour, and as Stannis looked down at him and caught his warm brown eyes and smile, the stomach-tightening worry that he’d felt eased despite it all, or maybe because of it. It felt like Davos invited him to face this vexing yet harmless storm together, as husbands should.

Somewhere on the way, Davos was rid off his boots by their followers, and the fact that Stannis had not barked orders of retreat at anyone made them less careful with him, too. Twice now clothes of his had been demanded by people blocking the hallway, and Davos elbowed him gently.

“Gloves,” he whispered.

Stannis needed a moment to catch on, but realised it was likely best just to play along. He could give away his gloves, couldn’t he? Not much dignity tied up in those. If it meant ridding himself of the throng sooner...

They cheered as a young squire pulled Stannis’ gloves off his hands.

“Davos Shorthand, if you can make Lord Stannis undress out here, then I’m sure you can also whisper to the monster statues of Dragonstone and make them do your bidding!” Gerion claimed exuberantly.

“Now to guess, which one is the doe and which one is the stag?” a man asked, somewhere behind Stannis.

“The stag is the one with the bigger... antlers!” a young lady proclaimed to Davos’ side, then pressed both hands to her mouth as she collapsed in high-pitched giggles against her friend’s shoulder, among the playfully scandalised shrieks of women and bellowing laughter of men.

Finally, they had arrived at the room designated for the new grooms and so Stannis had to hear no more puns about his ancestral house. He threw open the wooden door, distantly hoping he could get rid of these people at the doorstep and didn’t have to let them lead them to the bed.

The bed, which was currently occupied by Robert with his breeches around his knees and a naked woman, who was grasping at a blanket and gaping at Stannis standing in the doorway, a smile dying on her face.

The party fell quiet almost at once. Davos, who had opened his mouth to say something, remained frozen with his lips parted, staring at the king and his lover in their wedding bed.

Robert searched Stannis gaze and grinned apologetically. If he hadn’t been so stunned by this brazen impropriety, Stannis might have thought to get angry.

Davos was the first who found his voice again. He grabbed the knob of the door and pulled it shut in one decisive movement

“Well, it’s occupied,” he said, looking back at Stannis and their company with a smile that was too lopsided. “Nothing to be done. My lord, would you bring me to your quarters instead? I’m sure they’re just as comfortable.”

“Yes... I suppose any bed will do for these purposes, won’t it?” Gerion asked, obviously trying to shift the attention of the guests back to the new husbands with a bright smile, but that ship had long sailed. Stannis knew that there was only one story people would be telling of his wedding from now on.

The fury came, then.

Stannis stormed ahead down the hallway, Davos, still holding on to his arm, in tow. This was the only alternative he saw to kicking the door in and punching Robert in the face.

None of the guests were stupid enough to follow them.

It was not a long way to his quarters, though Stannis wished to have the entirety of the Red Keep, or all of King’s Landing, or better yet Westeros between himself and his brother right now. Once they were inside the room, he slammed the door shut.

“Unbelievable,” Davos murmured, hand drifting over the fabric of the Baratheon cloak bunched up in his arms.

Stannis snorted. “No, it’s not,” he said. “It’s exactly like him. Did you think him more charming than this?” he asked, bitterly. “I suppose he made that impression on you when you were on the ship north, where there were no girls for him to bed. It forces him to focus.”

Gently, Davos set the Baratheon cloak down on a table.

“No,” he said, “but I figured that for his brother’s sake, he would hold back. I do think he likes you, my lord.”

Stannis huffed.

“Who knows? Does it matter? Obviously, it does not keep him from putting his pleasures before mine and my husband’s honour.”

“His Grace _is_ a bit of a prick at times.”

To his own surprise, Stannis had to laugh. It was impertinent for anyone to say it, especially for this onion knight, but by the gods had he wanted to hear it, and it was made sweeter by the trace of annoyance in Davos’ voice that betrayed he had wanted their wedding night to start off better.

Davos smiled at him. “That Lannister lord was right about one thing – we don’t need that bed,” he said. “Any will do.”

He was so relaxed, even as he was only wearing his trousers and his pouch and looking straight at Stannis. Stannis gave his best to put the thought of his brother out of his mind for now. This was still his wedding night. It was still going to happen. He could let anger rule him in the morning.

“You have... slept with men before?” Stannis asked.

“Aye, and with women,” Davos said. “Does that trouble you, my lord?”

“Will you be faithful to me from now on?”

“As a husband should be,” Davos answered.

Stannis nodded his head. He was well aware that despite the letter of the sept’s texts saying a man should be innocent until marriage, too, what was actually expected of a husband was a certain knowledge about the things he planned to do during the bedding. Stannis had no inkling. He did not think about those pleasures much, no more than he was forced to. He did not even particularly like people touching him – and yet, he had enjoyed the firm grip of Davos’ hand when he held on to Stannis. It didn’t surprise him that Davos had slept with others, nor did it bother him very much, but it intimidated him.

“What about you, my lord?” Davos asked, finally, when Stannis didn’t volunteer the information on his own.

“I had other things to worry about,” Stannis just muttered. “I think I will go to the washing room first...”

“Can I come?” Davos asked.

Hesitantly, Stannis shrugged his shoulders. It wouldn’t hurt for Davos to wash his face next to him.

As he opened the door, he saw his big wooden tub filled with water. Yes, he had told the servants to keep a bath heated for when he returned from the bedding, he remembered, thinking that perhaps he would need to cleanse himself of the experience in some way.

Davos walked over and touched the water with his fingertips.

“It’s still warm. Do you want to take a bath?” Davos asked. “We had a long day.”

“Both of us?” Stannis asked, perplexed.

“Well, I am already mostly naked,” Davos said, spreading his arms. “I, for one, cannot pretend to be demure.”

Stannis had known he would have to undress, of course, and yet thought it would still be different to do it for a bath, with Davos watching casually. Not that he could say for certain. It was uncharted ground from here; he knew nothing. It was maddening.

“Or I could wait in the other room,” Davos offered into the stretching silence.

“No,” he said. No, he didn’t want to be a blushing maiden for his new husband. This was ridiculous. It was nothing but fucking. Other men did it all the time, as Robert was clearly eager to prove.

With purpose, he stripped off his clothes, not searching Davos’ gaze, but not avoiding it, either – ignoring it, more like. From a rustle he knew that Davos had taken off whatever he’d been left with by the wedding party. He heard him slide into the water.

“That scar on your thigh,” Davos said. “It’s huge. Where does it come from?”

Stannis glanced at the angry red line on his leg.

“From the battle for Dragonstone. I don’t know who it was, to be true. Just a random swing of a blade.”

“I wish I had been with you for that fight instead of skulking through Greyjoy waters.”

Stannis watched his husband sitting in the bathtub. On his face, Stannis recognised uncertainty now that he looked close, even despite the smile. After this day, he should not be surprised. Had Stannis even shown him that he wanted him here, that he was anything more than a doll that the two brothers were using in a game as they might have as children?

Because that was not true, Stannis thought, staring down at the man. He admired him for his gentleness he could not match and his simple, untrained charm that Stannis did not have. He could never really say how handsome he was because he was biased, he realised, in that moment. He did not just want the damned onion smuggler, he liked him.

“You can come to Dragonstone now,” Stannis said. “You will live there when I do. By rights I should be able to offer you Storm’s End, but...”

He didn’t have Storm’s End, for the same reasons that he did have Davos. He was the expendable brother.

“I have sailed past Dragonstone before. It is a marvel of builder’s work,” Davos answered.

Stannis got into the tub, which was just big enough for two to sit in it, facing each other. However, even drawing up their legs, their feet touched, their knees met.

“This is good,” Davos said, sinking deeper, until only his head poked out of the water, resting against the rim of the bathtub. His hair fanned out around his head. “I haven’t had a warm bath in a year, at least.”

The shift in his position left his feet moving forward, the right sliding against the inside of Stannis’ thigh. Stannis jumped at the sudden burst of sensation, unprepared, and grabbed Davos’ ankle hard, jerking it up. Davos’ hands tightened around the sides of the tub, keeping himself from being dragged under water by the pull forward.

“Apologies, my lord,” he stuttered. “I did not think. Please don’t drown me in the bathtub, that would be a very sad end for a smuggler captain.”

“No, I...”

Stannis let go off his foot, cursing himself as he saw the way Davos’ face fell. Why was he keeping him from initiating the one thing they were here to do? At the very least it would be over with faster. He looked at his maimed hand resting on the side of the bathtub and then grabbed his arm, yanking him over to his side of the bathtub. Davos yelped quietly, catching himself with one hand against Stannis’ chest.

“My lord?”

“Go on,” Stannis just said.

“Alright...”

He could not blame Davos for sounding hesitant, but he did not plan to foil him anymore. He would bear this as it came.

With a tug of his hand, Davos freed himself from Stannis’ grip and put his arms around his shoulders. Stannis could feel one hand resting in the back of his neck, the long-fingered one.

Davos kissed him again. It was not like the peck he had given him under the eyes of gods and men before the altar. His lips were opened slightly. His mouth was hot. His whole body was hot, kneeling between Stannis’ legs, leaning into him, holding on to him. Stannis felt that shudder racing up his spine again, that sudden rush of need, when Davos nipped at his lower lip. He exhaled sharply, but did not push Davos off, even though the temptation was there just for how frightening it was to have that overwhelming sensation take hold of him.

It occurred to him eventually that Davos wanted him to open his mouth, gently coaxing against his lips with his tongue and teeth as he was, so Stannis did. Davos hummed a short, appreciative tone. Against his will, Stannis suddenly remembered Robert’s comment after the dance. He could have done something with his free hand...

His hands felt clumsy as he fitted them against Davos’ middle, but the slide of wet skin against his fingers was pleasant and it made Davos sigh quietly into his mouth, pressing closer. As their bodies laid skin to skin, Stannis suddenly grew aware of the fact that his manhood had grown stiff, pushing into Davos’ thigh. He pulled his head back, feeling blood rush to his face.

Davos licked his lips and smiled at him. Stannis found himself briefly captured by things he was sure he had never paid attention to before, on anyone: the curve of his collar bones, the slope of his shoulders, how a strand of wet hair curled against the round tip of his ear.

“Do you want to go to the bed, my lord?” Davos asked. “Or we could stay here…”

Did people do that, Stannis wondered, fuck in the bathtub? It figured, considering the many other places he had heard lords and knights brag about doing it in when the evenings got long. Stannis had just never considered such frivolities interesting for himself. And yet, there was an impatience within him that almost made him consider the idea.

“Bed,” Stannis demanded, however. It was a bedding. He was determined to do this the right way, insofar as Robert hadn’t already ruined it.

Davos leaned away and clambered nimbly over the side of the tub. As Stannis followed, Davos had already grabbed the soft wool cloths that laid on a chair and given himself a cursory brush with them before he approached Stannis with one in his hands. Stannis made to grab it, but Davos sidestepped him, smiled again, and instead began drying Stannis himself.

It was a slow ritual, starting with his shoulders, his arms, his torso, the fabric sliding over his body, which stood rigid and awkward as always. Davos worked quietly and Stannis dared not interrupt him. It was a subservient gesture, yet Davos did not look obsequious, but concentrated. Stannis swallowed when Davos went to one knee to rub his thighs and calves dry, reminded in a flash of the day he had given Davos a knighthood and taken four of his fingers. The shortened hand was hidden under a fold of cloth. Stannis had the sudden urge to see it.

Davos lowered the cloth, but instead of getting up, he leaned forward and nuzzled his cheek against Stannis’ still half-hard cock. The gesture was so brazen and so inappropriately affectionate that Stannis just stood there gaping at him for a moment. When Davos glanced up, there was laughter in his eyes, even as he bit his lower lip to keep the noise in. With a brief kiss to the heated flesh of his cock, he finally got up.

“To bed, then?” he asked innocently before walking out the door.

Stannis followed, too confused and excited to even feel his fear anymore.

Davos waited for him at the edge of the bed.

“Would you sit down for me, my lord?” he asked.

Since it seemed much too late to take the reins from Davos’ hands now, and he was holding them more securely than Stannis would ever have, he simply did as he was told.

Davos went down on his knees between Stannis’ thighs, brushing his hair behind his ears before he leaned forward. This time, Stannis was a little more prepared, but he could still feel it through his whole body when Davos took his member in his mouth. He gripped the side of the bed hard as Davos started to move his head. His husband’s tongue was pressing against him, the slide of his lips and wet mouth maddening, his good hand digging gently into Stannis’ thigh.

One strand of hair fell loose from behind his ear, dangling close to Stannis’ cock, and Stannis found himself reaching out to push it back. His palm came to rest against Davos’ head as he held it in place. His husband’s soft brown eyes turned to look up at him and Stannis wondered how he had ever even tried to tell himself they were nothing special to look at.

With Stannis’ hand resting on his head, Davos grew bolder. Every time he pushed his head forward, he took Stannis in just a fraction deeper, until Stannis wondered how he could possibly not be gagging, but the thought was far away as soon as it had come. He could feel himself sliding into his throat, and whether it was the way Davos still looked up at him or that impossibly tight sensation bearing down on him, Stannis was torn away by it, grabbing Davos’ hair harder, holding his head in place as he spent himself.

He let go immediately as he regained control of himself. Davos pulled off with a small sputter. Some of Stannis’ seed dripped down from his lower lip and he swiped it with a lick of his tongue.

“I apologise,” Stannis managed, startled.

“Usually, I might scold you a little, my lord,” Davos said, moving to sit next to Stannis, “but I was worried I was not doing anything to your liking, so I’m relieved now.”

No, Davos had done the best he could have, more than Stannis had thought possible. He had never guessed that he could like any part of the bedding so much, so viscerally. He himself had barely ever coaxed more than a lukewarm reaction out of himself, but it seemed that his brother’s main vice of lust still lived within him somewhere, after all, and not just as late-night fancies and fantasies. Stannis had trouble marrying this to the idea he had of himself.

He looked over at Davos and saw that his own manhood was hard. The thought that Davos had enjoyed himself with Stannis’ cock in mouth sparked something in him as well. But where to start? He doubted he would put on as good a performance as his husband.

“It’s your turn,” he said, hesitantly.

“I’m fine, my lord,” Davos said. “You don’t have to.”

This didn’t sit well with Stannis, either, no matter how the last minutes had shaken the core of what he believed of himself. He knew little of bedding someone, but surely some sort of recourse was normal, and in fact Davos was probably just sparing him, like he didn’t believe Stannis could do it.

“I want to,” Stannis demanded, and moved further onto the bed.

After a brief, curious look, Davos followed. Stannis did not wait for him this time. He grabbed him around the waist and put him down on his back, kept him there with his hand on his shoulder.

“I’m a man grown and a soldier, onion knight, you don’t have to treat me like I’ll flee the bedchamber.”

Even if his stomach had turned at the idea of this night, he had never once considered not going through with it.

Davos inclined his head.

“I did not mean to insult you. You just… did not seem comfortable.”

Stannis gritted his teeth for a moment. He read him well, this smuggler, or maybe he just had more of a mind to be honest with him than other people.

“I’m not,” he admitted.

“Then you needn’t…”

Stannis shut him up with a kiss. It was the first idea that came to him, much easier than to explain all the thousand things that had gone through his mind in the last half hour, and it worked very well. After a second, Davos grasped his arm, but once more just with the right hand.

Drawing back, Stannis looked at the shortened hand that laid motionless on the pillow. At first he hadn’t thought anything of it, but he couldn’t help but notice the pattern now.

“You never touch me with these fingers. Do they hurt?”

“No,” Davos said, shaking off his surprise and glancing to his side. “The scarred skin is numb. You cut clean and true, my lord. I was with someone, though… he said he did not like to feel it.” Davos flexed the fingers, frowning slightly. “I suppose it would be odd.”

Slowly, Stannis placed his hand over the one he had mangled, the one that really did connect them in the flesh in a way that was entirely irreversible, more so than any words from a septon’s mouth.

“I am not that man,” Stannis said.

“Aye, of course,” Davos answered, and there was relief in his smile. For the first time this night, Stannis felt like he had done something right.

Again, Stannis kissed him, holding his hand down on the pillow. He felt Davos shift under him, trying to get closer. Following a timid idea, Stannis let go off his hand and rolled to the side, reaching down between them.

Davos’ cock felt smooth and warm in his hand and Stannis tried to treat it like his own, little enough as he had practiced that. It was easier to stay motivated, though, with Davos kissing at his neck and shoulders, his whole body responsive to the touch of his hand. Davos moved in, bringing them chest to chest, Stannis’ grip at an awkward angle now, but it didn’t seem to matter at all in the moment. Davos’ hand, the left, was roaming his body, exploring it gently, like something uncommon to him. Then he broke their kiss, suddenly, to make a quiet noise into Stannis’ shoulder, body growing rigid.

Stannis wiped the seed off his hand on the drying cloth that laid abandoned on the side of the bed and watched Davos lean back. The pink colour on his face combined with his damp, wild hair were a very becoming look on him.

He wanted to do it again, Stannis realised, as he watched Davos take the cloth to clean himself. He had expected to leave the chamber considering his duty done and nothing more, but now Davos smiled at him, he was of half a mind to ask him to show him more right now. It was disquieting, somehow, this wish for that loss of sense he’d experienced for a moment, and the pride that he had made Davos feel the same.

Davos got up to drape the cloth over a chair and Stannis watched the shift of lean muscle under his tan skin while he moved. As he turned back to the bed, Davos halted to pick up the Baratheon cloak from the table. He spread it out between his hands.

“What happens to this?” he asked. “Will his Grace use it when he gets married? Or Lord Renly?”

“No one gives their betrothed an old cloak,” Stannis answered. It was an unexpected question, but only because he had grown up in a noble house, he supposed. It would have been the reasonable thing to do to use the cloak more than once and any man from the smallfolk would have thought so. “It’s yours, though it’s not like you can do much with it. One more useless wedding decoration.”

“You are right it won’t make for practical wear on a ship, but I confess I like it,” Davos said, as he shook the cloak out once more. It was long enough that it would have trailed over the ground behind a much taller man than him.

“Why?”

“It seemed fitting. I am what I am because of how you decided to reward me. We did not have much time to talk after you knighted me, but I did not forget. I think they call this the cloak of protection… and yours has been over me for longer than tonight.”

Davos slung the cloak around his shoulders again, bright sunflower gold with the coal-black stag on it, and sat down beside Stannis.

“Even though I cut off your fingers?” Stannis dared to ask.

He still thought he had done the right thing. A punishment for a crime, a reward for a daring act of bravery. However, he was not blind to the fact that despite that Davos had agreed to it, he might have just paid the price he saw as necessary to get his knighthood. It did not mean he couldn’t resent Stannis for it, and doubly so after being strong-armed into a marriage with him.

“You were right to do so, and stood behind your judgement so steadfastly you agreed to carry it out yourself. I bear you no ill will for my fingers,” Davos said.

Looking him in the eyes, Stannis was sure of his honesty. It was a relief, but to know that Davos believed in the same justice he did brought something even more valuable. He took in the sight of his husband in his Baratheon cloak.

“Did you want this marriage?” he blurted out.

“They did ask me that before they sent me to the altar,” Davos pointed out.

“Asked the evening you came off a ship, by the king, with the guests already invited to court.” Stannis sneered. “You needn’t pretend it’s much of a decision they gave you. You seemed a reasonable sort, besides, you’ll know it’s not all banquets and hunting in the high houses.”

Davos looked off to the side. “You’re right,” he admitted. “I am worried someone will slip a knife between my ribs to make way for their child at your side.” He let the fabric of the cloak run between his fingers. “And I fear the court will laugh at you for me. Had I chosen myself, I would have married a merchant, or perhaps a knight or knight’s daughter. Which is not to say I do not want to share my life or my bed with you, my lord, just that I think the higher you climb, the further you can fall, and it’s not like I truly need more gold or lands than what you already gave me. But what most kept me awake last night was that I don’t know what _you_ think of marrying an upjumped smuggler.”

Stannis reached out to touch the cloak Davos had wrapped himself in. He was smarter than many lords, his onion knight.

“I think the Baratheon colours suit you,” he said. “Though I like the coat of arms you chose for yourself. I would not be ashamed to have it flown by the side of the Baratheon flag at the mast of a ship.” The man had put the onion on his sigil’s sail. Stannis had always enjoyed that blunt dedication to the truth, which there was so little of at court. “You may have earned your knighthood with onions, but that was more difficult than earning it by birth, as most men in this castle did.”

“That’s kind of you to say, my lord.”

“It’s not. It’s the truth.”

Davos laughed quietly.

“We should get dressed so I can bring you to your quarters,” Stannis said, after a moment of silence that stretched between them, wordless yet comfortable.

“Can’t I stay here?” Davos asked.

The request took Stannis off his guard, just because it was not how he had expected this to go. Husbands and wives did not sleep in shared bedrooms. But the same was not true for Davos’ people, he had to remind myself. The kind of house he’d grown up in had likely just crammed the bed in a corner of the single room it had, for the whole family to sleep in. The thought made him frown. Would it not feel too crowded? But then again, his bed was broad enough and Davos looked so hopeful that Stannis felt both ready to honour his every request and a right fool for it.

“If you wish.”

“I do.”

Davos leaned over and kissed him once more before he allowed Stannis to stand up to fetch a tunic and rough-spun trousers.

“You have no clothes to sleep in here,” Stannis noted, after he’d pulled them over.

“Oh, it’s King’s Landing, it’s not so cold. I prefer sleeping naked in this kind of weather.”

Davos smiled and Stannis hoped the heat he felt creeping up his neck was not painting his cheeks red. He joined Davos on the bed, where his husband had folded back the blanket for them, having spread the cloak on top of it. As he laid next to him, Davos grasped his hand.

He knew when Davos fell asleep by the way his thumb slowed and then stopped caressing him. Stannis looked over at his peaceful face and wondered if he would find any sleep at all tonight. Robert had thought of himself when arranging this marriage, and done his best to destroy the festivities to celebrate their union as well. And yet, Stannis almost wanted to thank him for what he’d done for him.


End file.
